The Fall Guy
by silver ruffian
Summary: Demon Dean makes a new life for himself in Vancouver as an actor/stuntman, but someone is sabotaging the movie set and determined to put the blame on Dean. Sam is equally determined to bring his wayward big brother home. NOW: Sam and Castiel impersonate Homeland Security agents at the Nine Sisters Talent Agency. It doesn't end well.
1. movie day

_**A/N:**_ Title taken from and inspired by the Lee Majors tv show _The Fall Guy_ and Burt Reynolds' stuntman movie _Hooper._ Hooper's tagline: _There ain't' nothing like the life of a Hollywood stuntman._

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I do not own Demon Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Crowley, Garth, Benny Lafitte, Casey, Cain, the Nine Sister Muses, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, The Hulk, Godzilla, Caleb the camel ("Hump dayyy!") and any other popular or mythological characters who show up that you know good and darn well I didn't create.

 _ **Summary**_ _ **:**_ Demon Dean makes a new life for himself in Vancouver as an actor/stuntman, but someone is sabotaging the movie set. And Sam is determined to bring his wayward big brother home.

* * *

 _ **Part 1 – movie day**_

 _This story begins and ends the same way. With a movie ticket._

 _Some of this is true. Or maybe none of it is._

* * *

 **Men of Letters Bunker**

 **Lebanon, Kansas**

Two years after Dean Winchester died, two years after his body mysteriously disappeared from the Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, Sam Winchester felt the exact same stomach-churning dread he experienced on that awful day.

Sam held the demon killing blade at the ready as he entered the library. He looked calm on the outside, but inside he was a jumble of screaming nerve endings. What if Dean (or whatever had hijacked Dean's body) had decided to pay his brother a visit for old times sake? What would he do if he looked into smiling green eyes that flashed pitch black?

Truthfully? Sam had no idea.

His eyes flickered from right to left as he scanned the room for possible threats. His jangled nerves raised the hair at the back of his neck.

Nothing.

The library looked the same as it had the night before, but there was something different now: an envelope placed in the exact center of the table.

Sam stopped and stared.

He kept the blade raised as he cautiously approached. He leaned forward. He sure in the hell wasn't going to touch it. The paper was antique white, thick and expensive, certainly nothing from Office Depot or Staples. The words written on the outside sprawled across the paper, red and spiky. He recognized the handwriting, all right.

 _Awww, poor Moose._

Sam scowled. Crowley. That bastard.

 _Reboot your Squirrel hunt here. My treat._

The ink was probably human blood. The King of Hell had to keep his street cred up, of course.

Sam reluctantly lowered the knife. He stood there for a moment. He wanted to turn and walk away.

He wanted to pick the envelope up and open it.

Dean was his only weakness. Crowley knew that. Hell, demons everywhere knew that.

Sam finally lowered the blade, then reached out and picked up the envelope. For a wild moment his fingertips seemed to burn at the feel of the paper. Hellfire. Sam stiffened up, then realized as soon as he realized it was just his overactive imagination.

Nothing.

Whatever was inside was really thin. And small. That didn't make him feel any better. Curses had been cast with far less. He didn't trust any of this, and he damn sure didn't trust Crowley.

The flap was open. Sam held the envelope away from him as he turned it upside down and shook it.

A rectangle of stiff sky blue paper, two inches long, an inch wide, fluttered out. It made several graceful spirals in the air before landing on the polished wood surface face up.

Sam leaned in cautiously, then squinted at the words printed on the front:

 **RUN FOR THE BORDER**

Mon Mar 14 16 12:30pm 1

 **Majestic Cinema** PG13 1005

1 Mat $5.00 **TMA 1**

MajesticCinemadotnet

Majestic 785-446-6888

It was a movie ticket.

 _What the hell?_

* * *

 _ **Majestic Cinema**_

 _ **Lebanon, Kansas**_

The next day Sam Winchester walked up to the Majestic at approximately 12:20PM. The theater opened at noon during the week and this early in the afternoon there were only adults present. School was still in session. Sam was relieved about that. He didn't want kids around if things went south. Bad enough there were adults in the building.

The Majestic had six screens. Two of the movies were "chick flicks." A serious drama with Meryl Streep and Diane Keaton, the other a rom-com with Jennifer Lawrence and Scott Eastwood. Will Ferrell's latest offering was number three, then a godawful cartoon (fairy Barbie gone CGI) and a live action rip-off of some video game that Sam had never heard of before. That and _Run For The Border_ would be the ones the kids would most likely flock to after school let out later on that afternoon.

 _Run for the Border_ had his full attention now. He'd researched the movie online the night before. Distributed by Warner Brothers. Starred Jeffrey Dean Morgan and Olivia Wilde. Critics' reviews were generally favorable, called it a "good, honest Western with creepy supernatural elements." The plot was pretty simple: A Texas rancher, his family and ranch hands were forced to flee their home. They made a desperate bid for the New Mexico border hotly pursued by all manner of hideous creatures. It was exactly the kind of movie Dean would have liked, and the thought of his long lost big brother sitting in the darkened theater laughing at all the movie stupid on the big screen made Sam's heart ache. His game face wavered just a little and then settled back, solid as stone.

Sam appeared casual and unconcerned as he walked through the lobby. Inside he felt pissed off and anxious at the same time. The people behind the concession stand were obviously underpaid and looked bored out of their minds. The smell of fresh buttered popcorn filled the air, a rich, heavy scent. Eating anything was the furthest thing from his mind. Sam's stomach was a rock, a sour, heavy lump.

He still didn't know what Crowley was up to, but he came prepared. The flask of holy water fit neatly into the inside pocket of Sam's jacket. The demon killing blade rested inside his leather belt sheath as well. He carried a pair of handcuffs inscribed with devil's traps in his outer pocket. Sam also had his Taurus PT92 tucked into his back waistband and another flask of holy water hidden inside his jacket pocket on the other side.

He showed his ticket to a bored employee to gain entrance, walked past the concession stand and headed into Auditorium One.

There were eleven other people in the auditorium. Adults playing hooky. No one turned around when he entered: most of them sat in groups of 2 and 3 and were too busy talking to each other.

He couldn't sit facing the door, so he picked the next best spot: the seat directly underneath the projection booth. From this vantage point he could keep an eye on all of them, even the stragglers who came in late.

The lights darkened. The previews were the usual stuff. Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson's latest disaster flick. Liam Neeson in _Taken 4_. Two horny frat boy comedies. Chris Pratt as the new Indiana Jones.

Then the main feature started.

Immediately after the opening credits rolled five cowboys rode up to a barn on a ranch out in the middle of nowhere. The camera tracked them from behind. Each rider dismounted. The animals stood patiently, lathered up and tired out from the long ride. The cowboys gathered up the reins and one by one walked their mounts into the barn.

The last cowboy pulled his saddle off the back of a tall black Appaloosa horse with a short flippy tail and a spotted white rump. He slung the saddle and the blanket over his shoulders, picked up the reins and led the animal in. Sam couldn't see his face. The camera panned over him, then pulled back to include the entire scene, using the barn door as a frame.

Sam frowned. The way this one walked prickled his nerves. Too familiar.

Broad shoulders. Bow legs.

A gunfighter's strut.

There was no dialogue, just the slow motion thunk of boot heels and hooves against the ground, and the soft, faraway whickering sounds of the horses.

The last cowboy entered the barn. He led his horse into a stall and then turned to throw his saddle and blanket across a wooden railing nearby. His hair was hidden underneath his wide brimmed hat, his skin and clothes coated with grey trail dust.

He raised his head as he turned towards the camera.

Sam froze.

 _Awww, poor Moose._

No. It couldn't be.

 _Reboot your Squirrel hunt here._

Sam saw bright green eyes framed by impossibly long dark lashes. High cheekbones. Full lips. That all too familiar patrician nose.

Sam saw Dean.

TBC next week.


	2. the new guy

_**A/N Oops and credit given:**_ I forgot to post this with the first chapter. The title of this fic is taken from Lee Majors' old tv show, _The Fall_ _Guy_. Dean's name in this fic (Sonny Hooper) and the subtitle is taken from the lyrics of the theme song for Burt Reynolds' stuntman movie _Hooper_ : _There ain't nothing like the life of a Hollywood stuntman._ Since FanFiction dot net is touchy about song lyrics I'm not going to post them here like I did over on Archive of Our Own and Live Journal. If you want to hear the song just go to You Tube and search: "Hooper theme song."

* * *

 _ **Part 2 – the new guy**_

 _ **Vancouver BC**_

The vampire leaning against the Lambert Hotel was a big male dressed in black. He had a neatly trimmed beard with a little grey around his chin, he didn't sparkle and he had sunglasses on. It was mid-afternoon, after all. The lore that "they only come out at night" was pure bullshit.

The vamp stood up straight when he saw Dean pull to the curb and park. Usually the car got a fair amount of attention. She was a 1968 Highland Green Bullit Mustang. Dean's current girl rumbled just as loud as Baby but her doors didn't creak. Despite that Dean liked her just fine. If she was good enough for Steve McQueen she was good enough for him.

Dean closed the door and slipped his keys into his jacket pocket. The vamp stood there staring. His eyes slid over the car and then focused on Dean.

"Benjamin LaFitte?" Dean called out as he stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Yep. Sonny Hooper?"

Dean nodded. That was the name on his paycheck nowadays anyway.

"Good to finally meet you," LaFitte said. He extended his hand and Dean took it. Dude's hand was cool and his grip was stronger than an average human. Dean matched the grip. They stared at each other long and hard. The weird sense of deja vu Dean experienced was freaky, as if he'd known LaFitte from another life. The handshake went on for another few seconds until it felt awkward and then it was over.

LaFitte drawled, "I never met a Knight of Hell with the Mark of Cain on a movie set before."

"Oh yeah?" Dean snarked. "And I never worked with a Cajun vampire slash assistant stunt coordinator before either."

LaFitte laughed. "Touche." He took off his shades. His eyes were bright blue. He grinned and the warmth reached his eyes.

Dean decided that he liked him.

"Where are my manners? My poor sainted Momma would slap me upside the head 'cause she taught me better than this. I was on set yesterday when you came around and Lou couldn't pull me out so I could meet you. My friends call me Benny."

"No problem. Good to meet you, Benny."

There it was again, another intense stare. Didn't last long, and Dean didn't take offense. "Damn. Did anyone ever tell you look just like Jensen Ackles?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I get that a lot lately."

"Did you ever see 'My Bloody Valentine'?"

"Yeah. Saw it on a double bill with that Friday the 13th reboot." Dean shuddered at the memory. "Valentine was okay. Friday the 13th was really movie stupid."

"I asked for my money back with that one." Benny pulled at the door handle and held it open. "Lou's inside already."

Dean walked inside. Benny followed him.

The lobby was huge; the floor was clean, immaculate. A large wooden counter sat over on the left, next to two elevators. Ornate light fixtures overhead. Expensive looking wood paneling and a large, hand painted mural depicting a lush green forest scene sprawled across the far wall. The doors and woodwork were polished wood grain.

The air in the place was a little stale, but judging from the condition inside the building obviously hadn't just sat there neglected.

"This old girl used to be one of the grand hotels in these parts," Benny explained. "Other studios use this location for movies and television."

Dean took it all in. An older black man in casual clothes stood by the stairwell. His name was Lou Graham. He had a broad, pleasant face. Dean heard the man's heartbeat, slow and steady and undeniably human.

"Glad you could make it, Hooper." Graham smiled. "No trouble finding this place?"

"Nope. None at all."

"Good. I wanted you to see the sets, get familiar with them before we start shooting. We'll set up shop here in a week or two." Graham indicated the stairwell with a wave of his hand. It was rather narrow for a building that size and ran all the way up to the ninth floor.

"Here's the set-up. The police chase Tom Hanniger into this building. He does a Spiderman up the stairwell, jumps from side to side until he reaches the ninth floor. At the top Tom jumps over the railing and is gunned down by SWAT units who were deployed on the ninth floor. He stays down for a beat, long enough for them to approach. Then he gets up and starts killing them all."

Dean nodded. "Nice stunt."

"You afraid of heights, Hooper?"

"Not anymore." Dean shook his head. "Call me Sonny."

"Okay, Sonny. Now you'll have a harness on for the ascent, manned by three riggers. I've worked with these guys before. They're the best. And of course we'll do rehearsals before the final shoot."

Dean looked up the stairwell and smiled. "You mind if I try something?"

"Try something?" Graham frowned. "Like what?"

Without another word Dean charged at the stairwell. He had a long, fluid stride.

"Hey, wait a minute!"Graham yelled out. "Don't-"

Dean took one last step, then launched himself upward, to the right. The height of the jump was impressive, easily more than six feet. His right foot landed on the outer ledge of the upper railing. He pushed off and turned to his left, with the exact same result, his legs and arms out and reaching, his foot landing in exactly the desired spot.

Dean pushed off again, this time to the right, then he pushed off again. When he landed on the left he lightly touched one of the wooden rail spindles with his left hand and then, just as quickly, jumped to the right again. Momentum carried him upward another six feet. He landed on the opposite side and pushed off again.

"What the hell-" Graham whispered.

Dean was two floors up already and climbing fast.

Second floor.

Third floor.

"Twenty bucks says he gets stuck halfway up like a cat in a tree," Graham muttered.

Benny laughed. "I'll take that bet."

"You're on." Graham took out his cell phone and started filming.

Up above Dean kept right on moving.

Fourth floor.

Fifth.

Benny shook his head. "Kid's moving like a machine. I'll let you out of the bet, Lou."

Graham huffed. "Never welshed before, not gonna start now, LaFitte."

Another leap upward, another push, first one side, then the other. Dean easily cleared the sixth and seventh floors.

Eight.

Nine.

Dean vaulted over the ninth floor railing. Then he turned and leaned over the balcony, smiled brightly and waved.

Graham and Benny waved back. "Take the elevator down and we'll go on to the next set," Graham called out. "I want to introduce you to the rest of the crew."

Dean gave a snappy salute, then pulled back from the edge and was gone.

Graham stared upward in wonder. "So that's a Knight of Hell, huh?"

'Yep." Benny grinned. He put his palm out.

"The insurance company's gonna have fits with that guy." Graham dug in his pockets, produced a crisp twenty dollar bill and slapped it onto Benny's palm.

* * *

Dean couldn't help smiling to himself. He swaggered over to the elevator and pushed the down button. Hell, he hadn't felt this good in a while. It felt good to show off. And why not? Why the hell not? What was the good of having all this mojo and not being able to show what he could do?

The phone rang. The ringtone was the opening chord of "Sympathy for the Devil."

He pulled his cell out, flipped it open and his smile darkened into a scowl.

Huh. No phone number. Just _666._

 _Damn._

The phone rang again.

 _Fuck it._ Dean put the phone to his ear. He didn't say anything.

"Hello, Dean. That was a neat trick," the familiar voice purred. "I've got some high level targets in the Big Apple you could take care of. They live in tall buildings, too."

"Crowley," Dean growled.

"What can I say, I love to watch. "

"I told you I'm not working for you. Not now, not ever."

"That wounds me, Dean. Hurts me to my very soul. _You_ ditched _me_ , sport, you left me howling at the moon all by myself, and _you're_ the one who's surly? That's not fair at all. "

The Mark of Cain stirred restlessly at the sound of Crowley's voice.

Dean lowered his voice. "What the hell d'ya want? I told you to leave me be."

"Does this mean we're not friends anymore? Maybe you can get me a ticket for your latest epic. 'My Bloody Valentine: Heart of Darkness', is it? I want front row seats for the world premiere. Four, please. You can do that, can't you? For old times' sake?"

Dean's eyes flickered to pitch black as he expanded his second sight to search all nine floors of the hotel.

"Oh, don't bother, boychick. I'm not there. No demons around, nothing for you to kill, unless you want to use the First Blade on that human and the vamp."

Dean blinked green just as the elevator door opened. He walked inside, turned and hit the button for the first floor. "No killing spree today. Not unless you want me to pay _you_ a visit."

"That's _exactly_ what I'm talking about. You lack vision, Squirrel."

"Watch it. I'm not your damn Squirrel."

"You have all the abilities of a Knight of Hell with the Mark of Cain. And what do you do with those powers beyond mortal men? You waste them. You become _an actor_." Crowley spat the last two words out as though they were a curse. "A bloody actor and a stuntman, no less. Working for pennies in the the motion picture industry, when you could sit on a throne made of solid gold and help me rule the perfect hell. What a waste."

"I'm hanging up on your sorry ass now."

"Would you like to know why you're acting like this? Why your soul didn't -"

Dean flipped the phone shut.

* * *

 _ **Hell  
The King's Throne Room**_

Crowley was not surprised at the sudden click. Dead air filled his right ear. Oh well.

The red-headed female minion holding up the ornate silver looking glass misinterpreted the slight frown that crossed the King's features. Her hands shook but she was careful not to drop the witchy glass. That would have earned her unimaginable punishment.

As it was, she was in luck. Crowley was amused. _Very_ amused. At Dean's reaction. At everything, for the present time. He was in a very good mood. He grinned to himself as he flipped his phone shut and sat back on his throne.

"I'll take that as a no," he said mildly.

TBC


	3. family remains

_**Part 3 – family remains**_

 _ **Men of Letters Bunker  
Library**_

Crowley provided late afternoon entertainment after Sam returned from the movies.

"Hellloooo!" The King of Hell called out cheerily. "Moose? Anyone home?"

Sam stepped into the doorway of the library cradling a shotgun in his right arm. The devil's trap on the ceiling was relatively new, something he'd painted there two years before. Crowley was definitely not the demon it was intended for.

Dressed in black, just as smarmy as ever, Crowley smirked at the hunter and his shotgun. "Hello, darling. Is that for me? Oh, you shouldn't have." He jerked a thumb up at the devil's trap. "Love what you've done with the place."

"What the hell do you want?"

"Me? Nothing at all." Crowley shrugged. "I want to see you lot back together, that's all. Family is so important nowadays." Crowley's sincere tone of voice was totally convincing.

That is, it would have convinced anyone but Sam. The youngest Winchester brother glared at him.

"Oh come on, Sam. I know why you're so surly. You figured Dean would choose to stay by your side like a good little demon. He didn't. That stings. The infamous Winchester brotherly bond has been dealt a serious blow. Besides, I think you're being really unfair about this."

"What?" Shooting this bastard suddenly seemed like a really good idea.

"I mean, holding big brother to a higher standard than you isn't right. After all, you didn't look for him when he was in Purgatory. Remember? We had a betting pool in Hell. Nobody saw _this_ coming. I certainly didn't. I had short odds on you setting up housekeeping with an ugly girl and her dog. Again. Of course, I won the pool anyway. It's good to be King."

Sam smiled unpleasantly. "Thought you had a best friend forever, huh? Didn't last long."

"Touche," Crowley murmured.

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you tell me where Dean is?"

"Why not? I mean, he's no good to me, is he? Wasting the talents of a Knight of Hell on a sound stage when he could put them to good use making a real difference. Working for me, that is." Crowley pulled a book off the shelf nearby, flipped it open, glanced at the contents and frowned.

He tossed the book on the floor. "I knew you wouldn't keep current on entertainment. That you'd be totally obsessed with bringing your wayward sibling back. I mean, all work and no play makes Sam a very dull Moose. All I did was point you in the right direction. Your big brother had a good thing handed to him and he didn't have the sense enough to appreciate it. Typical of you Winchesters."

"Cry me a river, you hellish sonofabitch," Sam snarled. Dean wouldn't have left the bunker in the first place if it hadn't been for you!"

The King laughed. "You've got that all wrong. Leaving here was Dean's idea. As soon as he opened those pitch black peepers of his he was off and running. I've never seen a fledgling demon pick up on the art of teleportation that fast. I was really impressed. He has mad skills, as they say."

"I don't believe you," Sam grated out.

"Fine. Don't. Blame it all on me if that makes you feel better."

"Now that I've got you, why should I let you go?"

"Well, let's just say I could be useful to you. If Dean goes off the grid again I can provide intel as to his whereabouts. I have a lot of contacts topside. Everywhere. Especially in show business. Or not." Crowley looked around the library with a smile. "I could stay as long as you want me to. Read books. Micro-manage Hell from here. We could be best buds. Stay up all night long examining the color of the lint in our belly buttons and expressing our feelings. How about it, Sam?"

Sam wordlessly raised his shotgun, aimed and blasted a hole in the ceiling. He'd have to patch it, but what else was new.

"Leave. NOW."

"No to the best buds/house guest routine? Okay then. I'm _sooo_ disappointed. Well, I won't keep you. You've got things to do, after all. Tracking down big brother. Seeing what kind of life he's made away from you. I expect you and Lieutenant Columbo are going to pay him a visit very soon." The mischievous glint in Crowley's eyes was unnerving. "Good luck with that."

The King disappeared in a snap of red hellfire.

* * *

 _ **Men of Letters Bunker  
Library  
Two hours later**_

Sam sat back in his chair. His laptop sat on the table before him, blandly unaware that the image on its screen was breaking his heart and pissing him off at the same time.

 _You black-eyed sonofabitch,_ Sam thought.

Dean's photo on his member profile looked good. Too damn good, really. He looked directly into the camera and he smiled, wide and cheerful. He looked healthy and happy, as if he were having the time of his life.

 _The damn Mark is making him do that,_ Sam thought. _It's not Dean._

Sam glanced at the top of the page. Apparently Dean had turned into quite the joiner. Had affliations with _SAG_ and _AFTRA_ now.

 _Whoop de doo._

Dean's job descriptions were fairly straightforward: Actor. Stuntman. Stunt Double. Stunt Fighter.

Sam scrolled down to the skills section.

Actor, All Around Stuntman, Fire ( _That figures_ ), Billiard Player, Stunt Driver ( _He left Baby for this?_ ), Fights ( _So what else is new?_ ), High Falls 100ft + ( _Guess he's not afraid of heights anymore_ ) Horse Falls, Horseback Rider ( _WHAT? Since when?_ ), Wire Work, Weapons, Wrestler.

Sam glared at his absentee big brother. _Damn you, Dean._

A familiar sensation tickled the back of his skull.

"Hello, Cas."

"Sam." The angel fidgeted as he blinked into view at Sam's side. He was just outside Sam's personal space. Maybe all the explanations throughout the years about "personal space" were finally taking hold. Castiel leaned sideways a little and frowned. "Is that Dean?"

Sam nodded. "Yep. That's the webpage of the North American Stuntperson Association."

"Oh. What name is he using now?"

Sam knew full well that Castiel could have read what was on the screen with his eyes closed standing on a country road somewhere in Europe if he wanted to. This particular angel of the Lord was obviously practicing his people skills, which up until this point were really lacking. There had been times Sam wondered if he'd skipped class the day God passed them out. Still, if trying to be sociable eased the angel, Sam had no problem with playing along.

"Tristan 'Sonny' Hooper," Sam said out loud. He frowned. "Tristan? That's a dumb name."

"Tristan is one of the Knights in the legend of King Arthur. The name means 'sad' or 'sorrowful'. Perhaps that bears some hidden meaning for him."

"Uh huh." Sam clearly wasn't interested. "He's been busy. Says here in the past 2 years he worked on two movies, _Run For The Border_ with Jeffrey Dean Morgan and _The Takedown_. With Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, no less. On tv he was in _Gotham, NCIS, NCIS: New Orleans, Daredevil, Grimm, American Horror Story: Hotel, Marvel's Agents of SHIELD,_ _Fear the Walking Dead, Ray Donovan_ and _Sharknado 4: Oh Hell No, Not Again!_ Currently working on _My Bloody Valentine 2: Heart of Darkness."_

Castiel looked thoughtful. "Huh. The movie business. I never imagined the Mark of Cain would influence Dean like this."

"I can't picture Dean keeping bees like Cain did." Sam gingerly massaged the tender space between his eyes. It was starting to throb.

"Ummm...is his contact information listed?"

"Backinblack2Y5 at aol dot com. No phone number listed. Professional contact is the Nine Sisters Talent Agency. That's in Vancouver and so is the movie shoot. I'm headed out there today."

Castiel brightened. Transport was something he understood and usually did well. "I can take you there, Sam. Right now."

 _Oh crap._

Speaking of which, the last time he'd flown Air Castiel he couldn't poop for a week. Sam sighed. He was resigned to the fact that he was going to have to take one for the team. He was on a mission. Whatever it took to drag Dean back home kicking and screaming.

"Okay. Let me pack some things I'll need."

TBC

 _ **BTW:**_ Tristan is Jared Padalecki's middle name.


	4. Part 4 - hostile takeover

_**Part 4 – hostile takeover**_

 _ **Suffolk, New York  
The next day**_

Dean Winchester faded in a block away from his intended target. The demon he was after was one of the Old Ones. Cruel and crafty. The bastard wouldn't hesitate to kill humans, especially if knew he was being hunted.

People and cars moved up and down the sidewalks and streets. No one noticed Dean's presence. He was a blind spot in their limited human perception. There were definite perks to being a Knight of Hell, and the ironic thing was said perks sometimes came in handy on a fugly hunt.

He raised his face to the sun and closed his eyes. The sunlight felt good. It warmed his skin, but something else warm and familiar bloomed inside his skull.

 _Hey, babe._

Dean opened his eyes and smiled at the female thought voice inside his head.

Casey.

 _Hey, yourself._

 _I hate being away from you for this long._

 _I miss you too. How's it going?_

Through the link they shared Dean heard her sigh and sensed that she rolled her eyes. _Nothing I can't handle. So this is what passes for rock stars these days? Pathetic. First this fool squanders the money he made_ _from all those record deals_ _. Millions of dollars. Then he starts a GoFundMe page._

Dean chuckled. _How much has he gotten so far?_

 _Sixty bucks._

 _Huh._

 _Now he wants me to rob a bank for him. Not gonna happen._

 _Want me to come out on my lunch break and talk to him?_

 _No. I've got this._ _Calliope owes me big time for this one._ _I've got dibs on Nicholas Cage next time he goes crazy as a road lizard. At least he's entertaining._

 _You sure?_

 _I'm sure. I'll be home tonight. I love you, Dean._

 _I know._

Casey laughed.

Dean allowed the warm feeling of her presence inside his head fade away. His smile faded and his face took on a curiously blank yet intense look as he turned in the direction of the house. He was on the job now.

Time to get to work.

* * *

The doorbell rang. The demon inside housewife Jessica Lively rolled her eyes and silently muttered an ancient death curse. Its name was Asuss. Her eyes flashed black and then faded back to an innocent light grey that was all too human and all too deceptive.

The doorbell rang again.

The possessed human stood in the front hallway glaring at the door, wishing that whoever this was would just go away. It had been bad enough pretending to be human during the family's morning routine. Those three damned brats were hustled out the door to the school bus. Before that she had to endure being pawed by that stupid meatbag of a husband. An unholy silence came over the house after the door was shut and the last damn human left. Alone at last.

There were so many things on the demon's to do list: lure that stupid Great Dane next door into the house so he could kill it with the sacrificial blade. Then it was time to pay a visit to the neighbors. After that he had to grind the corpse bones into powder. So many good things, so little time. Everything had to be in place by the full moon tonight.

Jessica Lively's remaining family members would be killed when they returned home this afternoon, one by one. And afterwards Asuss would use his host to spread the cursed fire oil through the neighborhood and set it all ablaze.

The woman screamed inside her head. _HELP ME!_

Asuss made her smile from ear to ear. _Not today, bitch._

The doorbell rung again.

His annoyance gave way to a ravenous hunger. Well, why not? Ahhh, it was so considerate of the Fates to deliver brunch to her doorstep.

She quietly stepped to the door and looked out. The man standing on the front porch made the demon's mouth water. He wore casual clothes, a black tee shirt, jeans, and a brown leather jacket. He was tall, broad shouldered. Remarkably handsome, even for a human. Freckled tan skin, dark blond hair, with the most wonderful green eyes.

Asuss decided those eyes would make the perfect keepsake. Spells were sometimes like recipes. He could improvise with this one. He could start with human meat and get the damn dog later. His Gods wouldn't mind if he indulged his peculiar appetites, especially with a beauty like this one.

The demon smiled as the door opened. "Yes?"

The man smiled in return, bright and feral. Raw power flared in the air around him. "Party's over, jackass."

 _WHAT?_

The Old One felt it then, a massive surge of focused power that was all too familiar. His host body shuddered as something powerful and unseen wrapped itself around her. The demon strained against this new force.

The man walked forward. He made a casual sweeping gesture with his right hand. The demon felt its host's feet rise up from the floor. The body drifted backwards, suddenly stiff as a board yet light as a feather.

The door closed by itself and the man was right there in its personal space. He gently put his hand on the back of the woman's neck and slowly lowered her body to the floor. Jessica Lively's mouth stretched open, wide and terrible. Demon essence surged out of her mouth in a long thick coil of black smoke that writhed back and forth. Instead of surging upward in a mad scramble for freedom the demon smoke curved downward and dropped through the floor.

Asuss the Terrible, He Who Should Not Be Named recognized this dread energy, even though there was something new and tainted about it. The knowledge came too late. This was demonic power corrupted by Heaven, wielded by the Knight of Hell with the soul of the Righteous Man.

Less than two seconds later he was miles underneath the earth's crust and dropping fast. He could already smell the sulfur and brimstone. That amused him. This wasn't the first time he'd been banished back to Hell. Asuss laughed.

 _I'll be back, Knight. It may take me years to claw my way back up into the sunshine, but I'll be back!_

Dean Winchester's reply was equally amused. _Dude. I never said I was sending you back._

Asuss gasped as he felt himself unravel. The color of his essence faded from rich black to dead white wisps of grey smoke that finally faded away, gone forever.

Miles beneath the earth's crust He Who Should Not Be Named died screaming.

* * *

Dean sat back on his heels. As far as he could tell Jessica Lively was fine. No physical damage. Breathing was steady. Heartbeat was good. He felt her consciousness stir underneath her skin.

Jessica blinked. Dean saw the light dawn in her eyes.

 _She remembered._

Allowing his vessels to remember how helpless they'd been was a typical dick move for a douche like Asis. The feeling of being trapped inside her own body was something Dean couldn't take away from her, as much as he wanted to. Tampering with the human mind was something he refused to do. At least he'd gotten there before things escalated. Still, maybe she could use that memory to be more careful in the future.

"Ma'm? You okay?"

She blinked again, swallowed hard and nodded.

He reached out with his mind and located the source of the trouble: that damn Ouija board on the table in the family room. The board disappeared in a flash of red light, only to re-appear on the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean fifty miles out from New York City.

A curious shark swam over to investigate. The fifteen foot great white mouthed the board. After she determined it wasn't edible she spat it out and swam further on out to sea.

Dean glanced at his watch. Damn. He was due on set in Vancouver in five seconds.

Four seconds.

"It's best to leave the spirit boards alone, okay?" he said gently.

Three seconds.

The warm smile he gave her was meant to be reassuring. She stared blankly at him, unbelieving.

Two seconds.

"Your mom and dad asked me to come help." Dean flexed his power and the spirits of Henry and Anita Bowden faded into view on either side of him.

Jessica's eyes widened. "M-Mom? D-Dad?"

Anita Bowden smiled. "Hello, sweetie."

One.

Dean vanished in a snap of fiery red light. That wasn't the worst thing she'd seen all day anyway.

* * *

 _ **My Bloody Valentine 2: Heart of Darkness movie set  
Vancouver, Canada**_

Dean shrugged out of his jacket as soon as he walked into the lobby of the Lambert Hotel. The set was full of energy as the techs strung lights and scaffolding for the various camera positions.

Benny LaFitte was over at the hotel counter with his back to the door. He turned around and smiled when he saw Dean. The vampire could sense him even before he saw him. "Hey, there you are, sport. Good morning!"

"Hey, Benny. What's up?" Dean nodded in greeting as he walked over. He felt comfortable with Benny. Maybe that should have bothered him, but it didn't. The irony was not lost on him. He used to hunt vamps. Never in a million years would Dean have imagined that there was such a thing as a 'good' vamp. But then, he never imagined himself as a demon either, much less a Knight of Hell.

Working in the movie industry was another thing he never even considered. Fooling the humans was the whole point of this exercise anyway, even though Dean had his doubts about how many he actually fooled.

"Hooper!"

Dean turned in the direction of the voice. Lou Graham was jovial and smiling as always.

"Too bad the rep with the insurance company threw a fit and wouldn't let you do it solo. That would have been a sight to see. You did pretty damn good with the rigging crew during the rehearsals." Lou clapped Dean on his back. "Ackles has some scenes to shoot this morning. After that, it's showtime. So, you ready for your close up?"

Dean grinned. "Heck yeah."

* * *

TBC Monday


	5. welcome to weird incorporated

_**Chapter 5 – welcome to weird incorporated**_

 _ **Nine Sisters Talent Agency  
Vancouver **_

Kitsilano neighborhood looked pleasant enough. A streetcar rumbled down the street. There was plenty of vehicle and pedestrian traffic this time of day, even though rush hour was winding down.

No one noticed when Sam Winchester and Castiel quietly blinked into view.

Sam waited for his eyes to adjust to the sunlight and for his guts to stop churning. Beside him Castiel stood unnaturally still, as always.

The youngest Winchester brother wore his best, most professional looking grey suit. His fake Homeland Security badge was tucked away in his pocket. Hidden on his person was a flask containing holy water and one pair of silver handcuffs engraved with a devil's trap on each cuff. The slim black briefcase he carried contained a change of clothes and several other containment devices Sam hoped he wouldn't have to use, but it was better to come prepared.

"We're Homeland Security this time, Cas. Remember to flash your ID when we go in."

Sam walked and the angel followed him.

Castiel looked confused. "But this is a different country than the United States."

Sam nodded. "I know. I'm hoping that Homeland Security tin carries some weight up here."

"Weight? I don't understand. The badge doesn't feel any heavier."

Somehow Sam managed not to roll his eyes. "Authority, Cas. Weight also means authority."

"Oh." Sam could tell his partner still didn't get the reference.

From his research on the 'net Sam knew that the Kitsalino had parks and beaches. The address and the photos on their website indicated that Nine Sisters was beachfront property, with the Pacific Ocean at its rear.

"Okay, here it is." The place was casual but expensive looking, a one story brick building. The door was simple, nothing ornate but clearly high-end, complete with curved gold door handles and ornate lettering etched into the glass.

A man came out of the building. Castiel blinked, puzzled. He didn't see a man. He saw a wolf.

"I'll be damned," Sam muttered. "Garth?"

Garth turned in the direction of Sam's voice. "Sam? Hey!" His expression brightened at first, only to be replaced a a slightly dazed expression at the sight of Castiel. Apparently werewolves could see angelic beings.

"Um, this is Castiel."

"Oh! Him!" Garth gaped at the angel in wide-eyed wonder. "Nice wings. I thought they'd sparkle or something. I'm Garth."

"Thank you. I'm pleased to meet you, Garth," the angel of the Lord said solemnly.

Sam flicked a quick glance inside the office. A woman in a royal blue business suit sat behind the front desk. There was no one else around. The furnishings inside were expensive, top of the line. The paintings on the walls were framed in gold. Behind the front desk an oversized bay window stretched from wall to wall. On the desk sat a futuristic looking Mac imac computer.

"So what are you doing here?" Sam struggled to look and sound friendly. He really wanted to take Garth by the shirt front and shake him, but he couldn't allow his frustration and anger to take over.

"Why aren't you with your pack?"

Garth blinked. His upper lip trembled. "Oh...uh...I'm separated. From Bess."

"Really? I'm sorry to hear that."

Garth nodded. His eyes were moist. "We just...it's a trial separation, you know? I've been away for three months now." His expression brightened again. "I got a job. Through the Nine Sisters agency. They say I can get steady work up here. The city's nice. I like it. Maybe I can convince Bess and my pack to move up here."

"Have you seen Dean?"

Garth smiled happily. "Sure! We had dinner last night. His treat. He told me to come down here and apply, so I did."

Sam quirked an eyebrow at Garth. "He did, did he?"

"Sure!" It took Garth all of five seconds to notice the way Sam's face darkened at the mention of his brother. "Oh. Uh, you haven't talked to him lately?"

"No, I haven't." Sam couldn't keep the chill out of his voice.

"Awkward," Garth mumbled underneath his breath. "Um...well, I better get going. It was good to see you, Sam. Castiel."

"Take it easy, Garth."

The hunter turned werewolf walked quickly away.

Sam glanced at the angel and stopped dead in his tracks. "What's the matter?"

Castiel stared at the door. He was wide-eyed. Deer in the headlights. "Nine Sisters. Of course!" Castiel muttered to himself.

"What?"

"I should have remembered. I'd...I'd forgotten..."

Now what? Sam glared at him.

The angel blinked and finally looked Sam in the eyes. "There is immeasurable power in this place. Ancient."

"Evil?"

The angel shook his head. "Sometimes. The beings inside are not to be trifled with."

Sam's mouth firmed into a determined line. "If they have anything to do with Dean I'll trifle with them all I want to." He gripped the golden door handle.

"Sam, I think it would be best if I waited outside."

"Why? You've come this far." Sam pulled on the door and walked inside.

The gold nameplate on the front desk read Calliope Anderson. The woman had shoulder length auburn hair and seemed awfully familiar. Sam suddenly realized that she was the spitting image of Lucy Lawless, the actress who played Xena, Warrior Princess.

"Well if it isn't Sam Winchester!" she said, smiling.

Sam blinked. Crap! They were busted already. And in record time, too.

She eyed Castiel up and down. "Good to see you again, Castiel. Different vessel this time, huh? You've got nerve, I'll give you that."

Sam was struck speechless, for one of the few times in his life.

Calliope smiled. "Oh, we were supposed to playact first, right? I'm sorry. I didn't give you a chance to pull out your fake badges and impersonate law enforcement. FBI? No wait, I've got it! United States Homeland Security!"

As if on cue Castiel fumbled inside his pocket and pulled out his badge. He held it upside down.

Sam sighed. "Never mind, Cas. Put it away."

"Aww, that's cute. Have a seat. We've been expecting you. So what can I do you boys out of today?"

Castiel sat in the chair furthest from the desk. Sam scowled as he took the other seat. He placed his briefcase on the floor next to his chair. "What are you talking about?"

Calliope Anderson's smile had a knowing quality about it. "Oh, he didn't tell you?"

Castiel squirmed in his seat.

"Well, let me enlighten you. Five hundred years ago my eight sisters and I grew bored. That is not a good thing, so we started this company. It was a lark at first. A diversion. We still inspired poets and novellists, but we branched out. We provided employment for folks with, shall we say, special abilities. Travelling circuses. In recent times we branched out. Carnivals. Birthday parties. Back in the sixties we had to stop providing talent to those venue. Have you ever tried to get birthday cake frosting out of werewolf fur?" She shuddered. "It's horrific. Just the thing to put a 300 pound 'shifter into a killing mood."

"And your point?" Sam snapped.

She quirked an eyebrow at the angel. "Are you going to tell him? Or shall I?"

Castiel sighed heavily. "Well, uh...mistakes were made, hurtful things were said, we should all move on with our lives."

"Cas?" Sam said warningly.

"Once I was a client. Of this very same agency." Castiel blurted out.

"You were what?"

"I had a different vessel then. At the time some of my brethen and I decided to go into show business. We were curious. Father allowed it." Castiel shook his head ruefully. "It was a disaster."

"What? Why?"

"Ummm...Raphael disapproved of some of the jobs we were given. So did Hannah."

Sam's bitchface was fierce, smoldering. It had the desired effect.

"To be honest we disapproved of all the material we were given. It seemed barbaric to me. I didn't like doing auditions. It's just make believe. I know that now, but..."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"Ummm...never."

"Never?"

"I was hoping they wouldn't recognize me."

Calliope smiled, sharp enough to cut. "Fat chance."

A small corkscrew of tension formed between Sam's eyes. That happened a lot lately. "So what happened?"

"My people and the agency staff nearly came to blows. I believe Father allowed that because he knew we would fail. Well," Castiel amended, "everyone but Lucifer. He excelled in show business. From that point on, my kind has been banned from employment with Nine Sisters."

Sam frowned. "Nine sisters?"

Calliope jerked a thumb at Sam. "For a hunter he's kinda slow, isn't he?"

"Most humans are." Castiel replied solemnly.

Sam glared at him. "What?"

"These are the nine sisters, Sam."

"The what?"

"The Muses. They are a sisterhood of nine goddesses who embody the arts and inspire the creation process with their graces through remembered and improvised song and stage, writing, traditional music, and dance. They are the daughters of Zeus, king of the gods, and Mnemosyne, goddess of memory."

"I never get tired of hearing that." Calliope waved at the angel. "No, keep going."

Castiel did. "This is Calliope, the beautiful of speech. The rest are Clio, the glorious one. Erato, the amorous one, Euterpe-"

"Okay, that's enough," Sam growled. "Lady, you know who we are and why we're here. Pretty impressive mojo you have there. Where's my brother?"

"No mojo required, Sam. Dean told us you'd come. I must admit you do have that stubborn 'I'll do anything to get my big brother back' glint in your eyes. He was certainly right about that. As to where your brother is, he's on set right now. In Vancoever. You know that."

She pushed back from the desk and raised up out of her seat. She leaned forward with both palms on the desk and tilted her head to one side.

Sam's right hand curled up into a fist. He couldn't help it. She was staring at his ass. "What are you doing?"

Calliope shrugged. "I just wanted to see if you and Dean are joined at the hip. You're not."

God, this woman (or goddess, or whatever) was irritating!

Calliope winked at him and sat down again. Her expression changed in a heartbeat, from snarky to genuinely concerned. She clasped her hands in front of her on the desk. "We're not controlling your brother, Sam. He's here of his own free will. We don't force anyone to work for us."

 _Oh, she's good_ , Sam thought darkly. He didn't believe a word of it.

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw the air shimmer pale purple and form into a tall, slender female. The long flowing dress she wore hugged her figure. At first glance the material appeared midnight black covered in stars and galaxies. The newcomer had a heart-shaped face, caramel colored skin, purple eyes and long black hair pulled into a ponytail that reached mid-back. Her appearance might have been soft and ethereal, but her voice and posture was anything but. She put her hands on her hips.

"Calliope, what is _this_?"

"Urania," Calliope replied calmly. "These are Dean's people."

"Huh. I can see why he left." Urania tossed her head as she eyed Sam and Castiel. Her expression softened as she looked Sam over. "He's a big one. Impressive." She stared at Sam so hard his skin prickled.

"Huh." Urania sounded thoughtful. "He's emo too. Very emotional for a human male." When she glanced at Castiel her face hardened. "But I thought we agreed that this is an angel free zone. You remember what happened the last time."

Calliope nodded. "I remember. Let me handle this, all right?"

"Fine."

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

Sam tried not to startle as Urania's slim fingers danced across the top of his left shoulder. She felt his muscles underneath the material of his suit and nodded in approval.

The muse sighed. "I have a four o'clock in New York. Abrams and Kennedy are having last minute jitters over the script for the next Star Wars movie." She rolled her eyes. "I keep telling them to trust the process, but you know these Hollywood types. So insecure."

Calliope smiled. "Then I'll see you when you get back."

Urania ruffled her fingers through Sam's hair. Before he had a chance to jerk back she winked at him and disappeared in a haze of purple card into Sam's left hand,

"My little sister always did have a kink for the tall ones," Calliope murmured. Sam fought a losing battle not to blush.

"All right then," Calliope said brightly. Where were we?" Her eyes settled on the angel of the Lord. "Oh yes. _You_."

Calliope's voice vibrated with power.

Castiel disappeared.

Sam stood up out of his chair and backed away. "What did you do to him!"

The countermeasures he had on him would work against demons. Calliope Anderson was clearly anything but. He couldn't think of a thing he had to use against her.

"I leveled the playing field. We take a pretty dim view of angel assisted kidnap attempts around here. And you do want to see your brother, isn't that right, Sam? Come. Sit down."

The room darkened. Sam froze. Not because he was frightened of her. What spooked him was the shadow that fell across the bay window.

Sam saw teeth.

Rows of teeth.

Giant teeth.

* * *

TBC


End file.
